Sins of the Father
by Chianna
Summary: Chapter 6! An old case comes back to haunt one member of the team and might find anther paying the price of revenge...
1. Prologue

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**Dedication: **To my sister Nita, who on this day, August the 15th, in the year 2005 AD, called me to tell me that she had just seen a terrific show for the first time this past weekend- Navy NCIS -"and that guy Tony is cuuute!" (I know you guys know all this already) It normally takes me at least a couple of years to get her involved with any new show. (Ask her about catching up on 4 seasons of CSI. She's lucky someone invented Netflix.) Now if I could just get her to watch Stargate SG1… I wonder how long it will take her to catch up with 7 seasons of boxed sets…) Love ya little sis!

**Summary** – In a long law enforcement career, you can make quite a few enemies. One of the team has just such an enemy and a team member will pay the price. (This story will have a little plot twist that I don't think we will ever see in the show, but it was one of those plot bunnies with fangs and claws – you know the ones – tenacious little buggers.)

**Rating** – PG13 for some cussing in this chapter – but tell me you wouldn't swear if you found yourself in a similar situation… and as with all of my fics – it's a slash free zone.

**Disclaimer** – The PTBs own all the rights, but I can dream…

Sins of the Father – Prologue 

The floor was damn cold. He knew this because it seemed that he was lying face down on somebody's floor. Not to mention that his cheek, stomach and feet were in direct and icy contact with the unfinished cement surface. As initial perceptions go, this didn't seem too bad. An instant later, bad – very, very bad - perceptions came to take over. His head was thrumming like the drum rift of a particularly driving AC/DC song.

Great. Now he had a headache and the particularly noxious melody of Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap was bouncing around in his head. Pushing himself up on shaking arms, his hand drifted up to rub at the ache. He couldn't say why he was surprised when they made contact with the sticky dampness soon coating his fingers.

Suddenly, he wished that all head wounds resulted in amnesia. He'd been cold-cocked with a shovel just outside of Warner's house. Raising both hands to his head, the agent tried to sort his thoughts through the pounding in his head. Blood. He'd found blood on the rear bumper of the car. Unexpected. He was turning to go back to the SUV to collect an evidence kit to take a swab when the lights went out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should have known right then that things were not as they had seemed and been on his guard.

With tunnel vision, he spied an open door on the opposite side of the room and knelt in readiness to stand when something yanked at his ankle as he planted his leg to stand. The unexpected check threw off his balance and knocked him on his butt. Falling over sent a lance of pain through his head that instantly immobilized him. He retched violently what little food had been in his stomach. He dragged himself back to the wall. Taking stock of the situation, he didn't like what he saw. The open door mocked him. He was tethered to a metal ring in the floor with five feet of frustratingly sturdy looking chain. Most of the buttons had been ripped off his shirt – probably in a search for weapons. They'd taken his gun, belt, jacket and shoes. Not to mention the knife that he kept tucked out of sight.

Kidnapping made no sense. And it was damn cold. And they'd taken his jacket. He loved that jacket. Now he was really pissed…

TBC…

**Author's note:** Hmmm, well we know that it's a _he_… Go ahead, guess…I hope I gave you some good clues.


	2. Scene of the Crime

**Disclaimer: **See First Chapter.

**Author's note: **Good guesses all. You saw some things that I didn't see and I wrote the darn thing! Thanks for the reviews. They are food for the writer's soul!

It's just unconscionable for me not to have posted this cause I'm like 3 chapters ahead, but I kept tweaking this one. Hope you enjoy…

**NCIS - Chapter One**

Arriving on the scene, Kate's first impression was that someone had left a doll lying haphazardly like an abandoned toy. Leaning against cyclone fencing topped with spiraling razor wire, the body of the victim was a far cry from being a cherished, if forgotten, toy lying amidst the dainty frills of a little girl's room. Her face was painstakingly made up and in seeming repose. It was in stark contrast with the violence symbolized by the almost decapitating cut across her neck. Blood, like a translucent paint, coated the upper torso, changing all the colors of her blouse and much of the skirt to muted shades of red. Her eyes were neither horrified or in repose. Still clear, simply sightless - they were just dead.

The blaze of a camera strobe shook Kate out of her observations as Tony positioned and repositioned the camera to make inclusive shots of the crime scene. It was damp and quite cold, typical for late February, though you could not tell from the victim's clothes.

"Looks like she was all dressed out for a night on the town. Poor thing - probably didn't expect it to end like this."

Squatting for another shot, Tony countered from behind the camera, "Every night was a night on the town for her. But I don't think she'd have called it a party - she's a pro."

Kate flashed him a how-would-you-know look.

With artless grace, Kate enviously watched her partner unfold long limbs as he stood to move closer to her. Standing next to Tony made her feel… short and maybe a bit vulnerable. And then there was the crack last week on the firing range _- I'll go for the head, Kate. You see what you can do about those kneecaps._ Maybe that's why she took every opportunity to cut his ego down to size.

Tony flashed a grim smile. "My life's not always been an exciting rollercoaster ride of terrorists, arms dealers and serial killers. Baltimore homicide - remember?"

Kate glanced away from Tony to see Gibbs trying to settle a turf dispute between the locals and the NCIS team. Considering the corpse in question was leaning with her back to the fence of a Naval installation - and Gibb's own stubborn nature - Kate was sure that final result was not in doubt. Comfortable that Gibbs was otherwise occupied, Kate was less intimidated to admit her lack of knowledge to Tony.

When she looked back at Tony, he was smiling smugly at her, already anticipating her question and aware that she had been checking to see where Gibbs was.

"All right DiNozzo, I can tell you're dying to share some pearls of street cop wisdom." God, she really hated "Tony the Lecturer."

"I'm not so sure Kate. You know what they say about casting one's pearls …" Saying this, with a 500,000 kilowatt smile able to charm the panties off of most women he knew, only served to annoy Kate even more. The satisfaction in annoying her was often short lived. The questions in Tony's mind as to how she seemed to be immune to his charm seemed to linger tenaciously long past the initial pleasure of tweaking the plucky little brunette.

"Finish that thought Tony and you'll be casting about for a new set of teeth."

Smiling with lips stretched to conceal the objects of her threat, Tony squatted down at the foot of the corpse. With lightning speed that was often disconcerting to Kate, Tony morphed from clown to consummate criminologist. Holding a pen as a pointer in his latex-gloved hands, Tony pointed to the heavy wear on the soles of her leather high heels.

"Most women I know have at least one pair of shoes like this, but almost none have the type of wear she's put on this pair. And the damage was not made by a well waxed dance floor." Pointing to the grooved wear marks and ground in street debris, Tony added, "These shoes have been dogging cement street corners. She looks young at first glance." Pointing his flashlight in her face made the almost kewpie doll make-up more evident.

"But in a harsher light those lines near her mouth and eyes would give her away to an affluent john. In her prime she probably worked some decent hotels and lounges, but it's probably been awhile. Competition's fierce out there."

Though she asked for it, Kate was irrationally annoyed with Tony for his dispassionate analysis. Only when she looked up and saw him smooth a stray strand of hair with a gloved finger did she realize that he was not as unfeeling as he would like Kate to believe.

"She's not your type, DiNozzo." Gibbs strode over to the pair and looked down with at the body.

"Is there a woman alive that is not DiNozzo's type?"

Tony grimaced and looked up at Kate. "Hellooooo! She's dead! The boss is just saying _dead_ is not my type. Riiiiight?" Tony looked up expectantly at Gibbs.

"Sure Tony. Whatever works for you." Kate caught the smile Gibbs tried to suppress as he turned away to look more closely at the scene. Looking back at Tony, she could see that he once again was staring a hole through Gibb's trying to figure out if he meant what he had said. Tony seemed to be impervious to almost any barb she flung his way. But the moment that Gibbs looked at him cross-eyed…

"He's right, you know."

Caught woolgathering, Kate was confused. "Right?"

"She was a pro," Gibbs offered with his typically succinct delivery.

Under her breath, Kate muttered, "Great. Now everyone is Sherlock Holmes."

"No need for Holmes if the local police can ID her, " he replied.

Looking at the two agents, Gibbs queried, "Odd outfit with these shoes, what do you think, Kate."

Kate realized that all the blood from the victim's transected throat had distracted them. The blouse was short sleeved, formerly white and cotton. The real oddity was the choirboy collar and crisscrossing plaid tie. The pleated skirt had a matching plaid pattern. If you discounted the makeup and strappy, high heel pumps, she'd swear she was looking at a prep school teenager.

Kate was just about to share her observations when Tony interrupted. "Yeah boss," he nodded, "noticed that too. Guess dressing up like a school girl is her come on."

"Wrong, DiNozzo." Gibbs swiveled his gaze to the diminutive agent. "Kate?"

Kate couldn't contain her smug satisfaction. Tony did not _know_ women half so well as he supposed. "If she was going for a school girl look, the makeup and shoes are all wrong." She gestured to the overdone makeup and in that moment noticed something else. The eyeliner was odd. Heavy-handed lines were drawn from the outer corners up towards her temples giving the obviously Caucasian victim an oddly exotic look. A look, combined with the shoes, which certainly did not seem to go with the prep school image. The odd eye makeup shouted geisha while paradoxically the stiletto heels put the image right back on the street corner of any common red light district.

"Geisha, prep school streetwalker does seem to sound like a very odd occupational specialization," Kate concluded.

To no one in particular Tony commented, "I didn't think anyone still used the term streetwalker. At least not anyone younger than my grandmother."

Ducky arrived on the scene and knelt down next to the body. "If you're lucky, maybe her clothes will also tell you where the murder scene is, Jethro. Because, it wasn't here."

"Hmmm. I see where you're going with this Ducky. Lot's of blood on the clothes and none on the ground. Okay then. Kate and Tony…you're looking for transfer evidence that will lead us to the original crime scene. Bag it, tag it and get it to Abby ASAP." Gibbs turned around and headed back to toward where the local officers were standing in a tight knot.

Tony shouted back over his shoulder, "Where 'ya going, Boss?"

"To interview the witness."

Tony did a double take, yelling at Gibbs back, "Did you say _witness_?"

Not getting an answer, Tony swiveled back to Kate. "Did he say _witness_?"

Kate shrugged. "Have you ever known Gibbs to say anything that he doesn't mean?"

"Right."

**_TBC…_**


	3. Missing Pieces

**Author's note:** Basically the author lost her mind and posted the chapters out of order. For those of you that posted reviews, thanks so much for trying to make sense or my error. The next chapter (which you probably have already read) will be reposted soon after this chapter and in its proper order. - Chianna

**Chapter 2 - Missing Pieces **

The road in this densely wooded region, just twenty feet from the base fence, was lined with densely packed trees. The long shadows partially hid the patrolmen standingin a group on the opposite side of the oad. Gibbs didn't see the witness until he had parted the knot of officers. Only about 5'7", the man was easily in his fifties. Though broad, there seemed to not be an ounce of fat on the guy. Gibbs would have pegged him for Navy even before he saw the tattoos on his arms. They were nothing fancy. The cheap, single color kind you get when you're young, drunk and having your first liberty after a couple months at sea. An uninspired anchor with a waving banner across it declared that the bearer had, at one time in his carrier, served on the New Jersey. By his age, Gibbs surmised that the witness might served in Vietnam. The battleship U.S.S. New Jersey saw action from WWII all the way through and past Vietnam. As the most decorated battleship in U.S. history, the Iowa class vessel had come to a stately rest as floating museum on the Delaware River near Philadelphia.

That's one ride you could be proud of, Gibbs thought. He slowed ever so slightly to give himself further time to size up the witness. He was mildly disconcerted to see that the object of his inspection was taking his measure as well. Shuttered and mildly hostile, the other man gave the investigator as good as he was getting. Meaty arms crossed, the muscles bulging under the rolled up sleeves of a shirt that had seen better days. Though the older sailor's step might have slowed a bit, Gibbs didn't think he'd enjoy wrestling with an adversary, despite his age, still looked like he could still muster a quite formidable strength.

One of the plain clothes officers hollered. "Gibbs! Since your taking custody of the investigation, you can enjoy the company of our charming witness here as well."

Gibbs mentally rolled his eyes. The local cops were not happy sharing the jurisdiction so it looked like they were going to poke the bear a couple of times to get him feeling all warm and fuzzy for the NCIS interview. Just peachy, Gibbs groused to himself.

Almost prophetically, the man fixed Gibbs with a deadeye stare. Anyone else looking on might think the look was completely emotionless. But Gibb's golden gut was telling him something was not right with this guy. His gut started doing back flips when the witness looked beyond Gibbs to his team. The older sailor broke into slow smile that showed all his teeth. For a moment Gibbs knew what it was like to be Little Red Ridding Hood.

Unconsciously protective, Gibbs shifted his stance slightly to put himself between his team and that predatory leer. Closing the last few feet, he wondered at that smile. Certainly, Kate has turned heads before, but somehow this seemed different. Gibbs couldn't help a smile when he thought how Tony was know to turn heads - of both genders. Somehow, he doubted that DiNozzo was this sailor's type. The guy was old enough to be DiNozzo's old man and then some. Gibb's smile seemed to have the unintended effect of distracting the man across from him for a moment. Was that a look of confusion flitting across the gruff face before the mask dropped back into place, Gibbs mused.

Gibbs was distracted for a moment by the detective that had lost the negotiation for jurisdiction of the crime scene.

"Gibbs. Mr. Warner here is all yours. You two have a wonderful time. What was I thinking to want jurisdiction? I have a nice toasty bed waiting for me, not to mention the beguiling curves one lusty bottle of 12-year-old single malt."

Gibbs swiped a hand over his heart, feigning a mortal wound. A genuine smile crossed his face, showing that he was willing to be a magnanimous victor.

"That is hitting below the belt, Humphries. I wouldn't want you to keep a lady waiting."

With the departure of the ranking detective, the other officers left the scene with deceptive speed. Gibbs found himself alone with Warner

He fixed piercing blue eyes in Gennero's direction. "Mr. Warner My name is Jethro Gibbs. I'm Senior Investigator for NCIS. That's the Naval Crime Investigative Service."

"I know that," Warner replied with mild belligerence.

"Navy?"

"Yeah, Vietnam. Served on the New Jersey." The finality of his tone made it clear to Gibbs that this subject was closed. "Could I have your full name Mr. Warner."

"Able. Able Warner." He fingered the collar of the jumpsuit that he was wearing. It seemed to go part and parcel with the tow truck pulled over on the side of the road not far from where they stood. Something bothered Gibbs as he looked over at the beat up truck and then back at the neat uniform jumpsuit of the man in front of him. He filed the thought away for further contemplation.

"Mr. Warner. Can you run me through what you saw tonight?"

Warner grimaced as if this was the tenth time that he'd related the story. Probably was, so Gibbs was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Got a call in for a breakdown on this road. I thought it was a little hinky. This time of night - mostly military traveling this area. Normally call one of their own, not a wrecker. Cheaper that way, I guess."

This guy talked in bullet points. Gibbs was certain that he would have to drag every detail from the guy. "About what time was this?" Gibbs queried.

"Near about 8:30 pm. I was driving down this stretch when I saw a guy leaning over that girl. She wasn't moving. The guy looked up straight at me and my truck. Then he hightailed it to his car." Pointing to a stretch on the fenced side of the road just beyond the victim. "The car was over there. Couldn't make out the plate"

Gibbs found it just a bit disconcerting how Warner's eyes were locked onto his. Not normal witness behavior. No pauses or hesitations to recall the events. No frustration at not recalling facts. And interestingly, no emotion, no shock when he talked about the dead girl. Seeing a dead body, even for an old soldier, is not a commonplace occurrence.

"Can you give me a description?"

"It was a baby blue '85 Crown Vic with a navy vinyl top. Though most of that was long gone. Sounded like the 302 engine. Needs an engine that size to get her big ass in gear."

Gibbs was not sure if he was amused or annoyed, but he certainly was not surprised that a tow truck driver would give him a description of the vehicle instead of the perp.

"How about the guy? What did he look like?"

What followed was one of Gibb's least favorite exercises he'd often referred to as the "Medium Description."

Every question that he asked was followed quickly by a terse and remarkably useless description.

"Sorta' average height."

"Brownish hair."

"In his thirties or forties."

"That covers almost two decades Mr. Warner. Can you narrow it down for me?"

"It was dark."

"Did he have any distinctive features?"

"What do you think?"

"Was he white? Hispanic?"

"Could be either. It was too…"

"Dark."

"Yeah. How did you guess?"

Gibbs new that he was being played and it galled him to no end. Warner's face remained passive though Gibbs was sure he saw a malicious glint in his witness's eye after the last remark.

The senior agent was not sure if his investigators were finished with their initial investigation, simply curious or sensing something was not right with the interview. Gibbs best guess was a combination of the later with a strong dose of both of the former. He sighed deeply. Tony was an odd mix of intuition, sensitivity and an almost juvenile recklessness. In varying degrees, these qualities made him a gifted investigator and, more often than he'd like to think about... a 32-year-old juvenile delinquent.

Tony approached with a determined stride. Kate followed behind, her legs not quite able to match her partner's long strides. From the uncharacteristically serious expression on Tony's face, it seemed the younger man had also picked up on the odd vibes Warner gave of like an unwholesome and indefinable stench.

Sensing something from the comer of his eye, the senior agent turned from his approaching agents. Again with the smile? Gibbs saw Kate's eyes narrow as she pulled even with Gibbs. Her reaction confirmed for Gibbs that something was not right with their witness. Only time would tell if the… **_wrongness_** would be a factor in their investigation.

''Able Warner. " The senior agent gestured toward his team. ''Agents Todd and DiNozzo."

Tony favored the other man with a curt nod before he launched into his update. Kate's eyes never left Gennero's face. She offered no polite acknowledgement.

No goofing around, DiNozzo gave a simple run down on their progress.

"Prelim photos done. Ducky's wrapping up with his on-site observations. I'm going to make a cast of the tire tracks near the body. Sunup is in a couple of hours. Kate and I are gonna expand the search area when we have daylight."

Gibbs couldn't help as a corner of his mouth inched up in amusement that lasted no more than a nanosecond. Tony volunteering to hangout at a scene for a couple of hours without being ordered? No token complaint or attempt at avoiding the duty? Tony must be picking up the same odd readings from Warner or equally likely he sensed the frustration Gibbs thought surely was oozing out of every one of his pores. Tony did have a well-developed sense of self-preservation when it came to annoying the senior agent.

**_TBC_** ...


	4. All Too Familiar

**Authors Note:** STOP! I goofed -so the previous chappie wasinserted into the order yesterday. If this chappie below sounds familar, you may have missed the chapter just before this that introduces the bad guy. Sorry! - Chianna.

**Chapter 3 - All Too Familiar**

The fact that Tony also volunteered Kate for duty in the wee hours did not go unnoticed by the senior agent. Kate's decidedly sour look she shot DiNozzo confirmed her feelings, though she gamely chose to keep her mouth shut.

Gibbs looked for a long moment at the body. Lights had been set up for Tony to take pictures and for Ducky's prelim report at the scene. Distance had blurred the scene to a simple tableau and for a second he was struck with an oddly strong sense of déjà vu. Something was missing. If he mentally substituted a streetlight high overhead instead of the Kleeg lights used to illuminate the scene, Gibbs was certain that he had seen a similar scenario before. He just couldn't place it. Shaking his head slightly, the witness's rough voice tore him away from his thoughts.

"Are we done here?" Warner shuffled the dirt at his feet, not even trying to hide his impatience. "I've told you all I know."

Which amounted to a hell of a lot of nothing, Gibbs thought bitterly. "Yeah we're done here," Gibbs fixed the other man with a pointed gaze, "…for now." Hooking a thumb in DiNozzo's direction, he added, "Give the agent here your name and address in case we need to contact you for anything else."

Tony was already asking the older man for his drivers license when Gibbs raised his hand, palm outward. Without pausing or looking up, Tony lobbed a couple of small black containers with gray lids that had been rubber banded together at his boss. The senior agent deftly caught the film containers and tried to hide a smile by concentrating on reading the younger agent's cramped handwriting on the evidence labels. When Tony started reading his mind…yeah right. That day was never gonna happen if Gibbs had his way. Tony could be smug and the older agent took inordinate pleasure in balancing the universe, especially where Tony was concerned. Could be a flaw in his character, the senior agent mused.

Nope.

Sporting an even wider grin, he caught a confused look from Tony. The universe tilted ever so slightly to his satisfaction and he whistled a little sea shanty. This seemed to deepen Tony's concern into a decided frown.

God, he loved his job.

Without turning his head, he shot over his shoulder, "I'm heading back with Ducky. I'll have these shots developed. I'll be expecting a report by 0900."

Gibbs was sure he heard Kate groan as he lifted a leg up onto the coroner's wagon. He sketched a wave as they pulled away. His momentary lightheartedness evaporated like mercury on a hotplate. Tony and Kate stood with their backs to the witness. Warner's face was a study in congealed malice as he looked at their unguarded backs. Suddenly, he felt the universe tilt on its access. Something was not right - about this case, the body and especially their witness.

_**TBC…**_


	5. Hurricanes and Dames It

**Author's note: **I know I should be taken out and shot. And not a whole lot of action in this chapter. Bare with me, I as likely to give up writing this story as Gibbs is to buy an electric sander…

**Chapter 4 – Hurricane's And Dames – It's All The Same**

Kate and Tony were oblivious to the look Warner gave them. Yet they were not so unaware of the feeling of malice seeming to roll off their witness like a cold, wet wind. Kate felt a palpable relief to see that Warner was already walking toward his tow truck to leave.

She was not surprised to hear Tony echo her unspoken discomfort she felt in Warner's presence.

"Wow. Was he channeling Johnny Rocco or what"

"Johnny Rocco"

"Well OK maybe he's not as talkative, but that guy oozes malice just like Rocco."

Kate was totally lost. She couldn't remember anyone from their previous cases with the name Rocco. Though she knew she'd regret the admission, Kate's curiosity got the better of her - as usual.

With a weary sigh, she queried, "OK Tony, I give. Who is Johnny Rocco?"

For a moment, Tony's eyes widened a bit and blinked in unfeigned surprise. But opportunity to pull on Kate's leg was too tempting to pass up. The back of his hand went to his forehead and his head tilted back as if seeking deific intervention.

"Key Largo, Kate. You can't tell me you've never seen Key Largo"

The first blush of early morning light illuminated a less than patient Agent Todd with hands on her hips and chin tilted ever so slightly in determined defiance.

Tony took her lack of response as an admission of guilt. "Kate, come on. Barrymore, Bogey, Bacall? Hurricane's, Dames, Murder and the Mob." Still, he was met with unblinking silence. "Edward G. Robinson? He was Johnny Rocco. He _was_ the mob for every American going to the movies until Brando did the _**Godfather**_."

Kate's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, yeah. Isn't he the guy that said….You dirty rat. You're the one that killed my brother… or something like that"

This time a look of genuine horror crossed Tony's expressive face. "Cagney, Kate. How could you mix up Cagney and Robinson"

She hadn't, but she sure as hell wasn't going to admit that to Tony. He was so easy some times. Why were men so enchanted with movies about the mafia? If she only had a nickel for every time a guy said someone needed to _go to the mattresses_…

Sensing Kate wasn't going to dignify his question with a response, her talkative partner continued. "Edward G. Robinson, short guy, built like a bulldog with thick lips and droopy eyes." Looking for recognition in Kate's purposely blank face, he continued"Little Ceasar, Double Indemnity" Still, no response. "You really need to get a life Kate."

Suddenly defensive, Kate replied "Getting a life does not involve spending hours like a zombie in front of a television."

Tony simply shrugged off the insult. They both knew that he had a fairly active social life. It was the quality of said life that seemed to provide Tony's coworkers with all the material they need to razz him until the end of time. It was rare indeed when anyone punctured DiNozzo's thick hide. She'd seen Gibb's do it. Even called the senio agent on it once...and then beat a hasty retreat. She'd crossed the line a time or two herself. Watching Tony's self-confident smile fade to wounded surprise never seemed to give her the satisfaction she expected.

Unfazed, Tony simply explained, "My first crush was on Lauren Bacall. When I couldn't sleep I'd sneak downstairs and watch the late, late, late movie. They were all black and white back then - we didn't have HBO 20 odd years ago. The moment I heard Bacall say, _If you want anything, just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you Steve? Just put your lips together and blow. _That was from _**To Have and Have Not**_ - Bogie fell in love with her during that movie and I'd be willing to bet that he was over the moon by the time they filmed that scene."

"So basically verbal fencing as mating ritual" At Kate's comment, Tony tilted his head ever so and gave her a wisp of a sly smile. Realizing just one moment too late that they had been verbally fencing and seemed to make quite a habit of said practice, Kate's mouth shut with an almost audible snap. Tony's smile only widened more meaningfully.

Kate wasn't going to let him off easily. Planting her hands defiantly on her hips, the diminutive agent added a bit more sourly than she intended, "If I remember correctly, Bogart was twice her age. It couldn't have taken much for a middle-aged man to fall in love with her. She was a walking mid-life crisis."

They hadn't strayed far from the SUV and Tony slouched casually against the car. "Soooo jaded, Kate? Midlife crisis's don't last for 12 years. I think even at such a tender age as 19…"

Kate was shocked and it was evident in her reply. "She was 19. He had to be at least forty."

"He was more like forty-five." Kate's eyes widened. Tony anticipated her shock and interrupted before she could make the inevitable cradle robber comment. "She was his match in every way I read once. Intellect, strength of will and spirit of adventure." Tony was no longer looking at Kate. His eyes seemed to look inward as he added. "I always thought that their story made all the romantic babble about soul mates seem… well… more... possible."

Kate's mocking smile seemed to soften. "Most people stop believing in fairy tales about the same time they realize Santa Claus is just the frontman for a vast parental conspiracy."

Tony gazed at her in mock horror. "You don't believe in Santa Claus? I bet you don't make wishes on the first star at night either"

Upon seeing Kate's less than agreeable look, he continued, "Bogie and Bacall were constant companions and married for twelve years until Bogie's death. You know I always loved that final scene from Key Largo. Bacall gets a call that Bogie survived being kidnapped by the mobsters, she throws open the windows and is bathed in a beam of morning light. Most guys I know would give quite lot to be greeted with a sight like that."

"Right, leggy blonde with sunlight making her clothes almost transparent. You are so predictable, Tony."

Favoring Kate with a flirty smile, he replied, "Who says that they have to be leggy... or blonde"

Flustered, Kate countered, "Sun's up, Tony. Time to go to work."

Without further comment, Tony crossed over to the opposite side of the road to look for any vehicle tracks worth making into a cast for future reference. Kate started moving in greater increasing circles, bending down occasionally to pick up some bit of promising evidence. After bagging a discarded cigarette, she stood up, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to get warm in the cold, damp morning air. Belatedly she realized the jacket she put on in her half steeping stupor in the wee hours was more fashionable than warm.

So it was with some surprise that Kate felt a weight drop on her shoulders. She opened her mouth to protest, but the residual warmth convinced her that discretion was the better part of valor. Looking up at her partner, she suspected that he was waiting for a negative reaction. He seemed to be concentrating on a patch of bare asphalt like it had directions to the lost continent of Atlantis.

As she slipped her arms into the sleeves and pulled the jacket more tightly around her, the expensive black leather released a tantalizingly masculine aroma of citrus, spice and leather that she'd come to associate with Tony. Kate drew in a deep breath of the scent and contrarily refused to analyze her motives or the odd flutterinq feeling that seemed to settle in her chest.

Tony stole a glance at his often-prickly partner to gauge her reaction to his gesture. He was mildly surprised to see that instead of offending her independent and feminist leaning sensibilities, she had slipped her arms into the sleeves.

The jacket almost reached her knees and Kate kept tugging at the sleeves that covered her hands. She looked like a child playing dress up and Tony couldn't help but find the scowl she favored the offending cuff with as rather endearing. Shaking his head at the thought, Tony mused that he must besuffering sunstroke to find anything about his prickly partner endearing. Except that it was just above freezing and a bleary sun was barely fighting through the damp, gray dawn.

Safer than exploring his feelings in any matter involving Kate, Tony decided the safest and most rewarding avenue for investigation was going to be the tire tracks and footprints at the crime scene. Pouring plaster was definitely preferable to being encased in it – which he was certain would be the result if he ever let on to little Special Agent Scrappy Todd that he had a soft spot where she was concerned.

TBC…


	6. Witness or Worse?

Author's note: Gibb's hasn't bought an electric sander and I'm still updating. I appreciate your patience. This is the chapter that confirms who was in trouble in the first one, though I don't think I made it too tough for you all to figure out. Chapter 5 – Witness or Worse?

It was 8:30 in the morning and to Kate felt like she'd already put in a full day's work. Somehow, it still offended her to see Tony still had a spring in his step after the obscenely long hours they'd just put in. The bullpen was already humming with activity. From the number of the coffee cups that were accumulating on many of the desks, she wasn't the only agent to realize that NCIS was far from the typical eight to five kind of job.

Gibbs wastebasket overflowed with empty coffee cups. With the cleaning crew working overnight, it was a certainty the boss had been in the office since he'd left them at the crime scene. Kate blew a lock of hair from her eyes, certain she looked as beat as she felt. She marveled at the senior agent's ability to look as sharp as he would from a full night's sleep. Assuming he slept. With his acute hearing and ability to work around the dock, Kate made a note to check to see if Gibbs had reflection the next time they passed a mirror.

Without looking up from the memo he was scanning, Gibbs queried testily, ''Where have you two been?"

Kate's mouth opened but for the life of her, she could not put together the syllables needed for coherent speech.

Tony's amiable reply filled the void. ''I got a good cast of the tire tracks but I wanted some pictures of the scene in daylight.''

''It's 0832. Sun up was at 0623 today. You two should have been back thirty minutes ago."

Tony looked like he was going to try some of his typical shucking & jiving to defuse Gibb's annoyance. It would have been to her advantage to let him be the focus of the bosses ire, but in fairness she felt she should take part of the responsibility.

"We stopped for Egg McMuffins... and coffee." Kate's statement more efficiently distracted Gibbs than if she'd pulled her shirt off and whipped it around her head. Tony's longer experience with the senior agent paid off in this case.

Playing to the older agents disgusted look, Tony added with an exaggerated look of dismay, ''Yeah Boss, can you believe it? People actually buy coffee at McDonalds?

Gibb's closed is eyes in what seemed an attempt to see if he could put the entire conversation on rewind and shook his head.

''Anyway Boss," Tony added quickly, "I took footprint casts too and just from eyeballing them, I could swear that Warner had walked around in the area where he said the killer's car was parked." The younger agent sensed the others piqued interest. "I take it he did not mention doing a little exploring?"

Gibbs favored him with a sour look.

Reading Gibb's annoyance accurately, Tony rushed to fill the void. ''Abby's got a lot to process so I thought I'd run the casts down to the lab and ink and print 'em. Once I scan them, Abby can run a computer model to check for comparison. Might be worth interviewing Warner to see if he left any other tidbits out of his statement." Tony looked for an affirmative from Gibbs. He should have known better.

''Are you waiting for a gilded invitation, DiNozzo?"

Tony had already turned and headed for the elevator.

Abby greeted Tony with a cheerful wave that she managed without ever raising her head from the scope she was using.

"Hey Abs, can I use your scanner?"

Without looking again, Abby queried, "You're not going to copy you're butt again are you?"

Tony favored the little brunette with a sly grin as she snuck a peak over the scope. "Did Valentine's Day come a second time this year?"

With equal parts of amusement and awe, Abby remarked, "You did not mail butt pictures to your Valentines?"

"Email. With a distro list the size of mine, snail mail is not efficient."

Abby couldn't accurate get a read on the level of bull Tony might be hefting her way as his 500,000 watt smile tended to throw off her internal lie detectors.

"Oh yeah Tony. You have reached a whole new level of gross…" Tipping her head and leveling an impish grin his way she added "and oddly cool, too."

"Yeah, lead with your assets, is what I always say."

Kate breezed into the lab. "I thought your motto was _Think with your_…"

With slight exasperation, Tony groused, "Nice Kate, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" He set the plaster cast of the shoe print on the scanner and watched as the image was digitally reproduced on a screen nearby.

Tony turned to Abby. "Can you compare the cast print with the any footprints we can find on Kate's crime scene photos"

"Need you even ask?" Abby grinned with a well-earned level of confidence. "Watch and be astounded."

With a flip of her pigtails, Abby's grin was confident as agile fingers flew over her computer keyboard. Soon, the black on white scan of the cast was on the left side of the screen. The right side of the screen flashed various digital pictures. When a photo including a shoe print flashed on the screen Abby at once started flipping it around to match the size and aspect ratio of the cast print on the left. Soon she had three pictures with positive matches lined up vertically on the right side of the screen matching the scan.

Tony had already taken out his sketch of the crime scene and was comparing the locations of Kate's three pictures. With the sketch in one hand he pointed to the top two photos. "These make sense," as he pointed to pictures of the areas where the police had interviewed Warner and where the tow truck had been parked. Pointing at the final picture, Tony continued, "But this is where Warner said the perp's vehicle was parked."

"Maybe Warner's curiosity got the better of him while he was waiting for the locals," Kate surmised as she peered more closely at the photo of the third location.

Dinozzo wasn't sure what he felt about Abby's results but he was more than familiar with the unsettling feeling in his gut that told him the evidence meant _something_. He knew Gibbs well enough to know that there was something about the witness that did not sit well with him either.

"I'm gonna go over this with Gibbs and head to Warner's house to re-interview him. His wanderings could compromise the scene or worse… I wouldn't put if past him to palm a piece of evidence just to watch us spin our wheels."

It was 10 am and even without any sleep, he could feel the fission of nervous energy making him antsy to so something, really _anything_. Seeking a release, he bypassed the elevator and bounded up the stairs two at a time.

Gibbs was peering at the computer screen rather myopically when Tony caught sight of the senior agent at his desk. Gibbs had unbent enough to put on reading glasses occasionally, but he was not overly fond of wearing them.

"Hey Boss! I've got Warner's footprints in the vicinity of where he stated the perp's car was parked."

Gibb's eyes narrowed in speculation and unveiled annoyance.

Waving the photos in his hand, Tony added, "Anyway I'm thinking he might have messed around at the scene more than he admitted. Could be holding back on something he saw or even picked up and carried away some evidence."

A slow grin lit the older agent's face and Tony surmised that Gibbs would not have minded charging that particular witness with impeding a federal investigation.

Gibb's copied Warner's address from his notebook handed the sheet to Tony. "Haul him in if you aren't satisfied with his answers. Clear?"

"Crystal." Tony could tell from the faint smile still lingering on the bosses face that the thought of having the old sailor in the interrogation room was not unappealing.

Almost as an afterthought, Gibbs added. "Want to take Kate with you?"

Normally jumping at the chance to have Kate alone with him for a session of unimpeded teasing, Tony was almost as surprised at his answer as Gibbs was.

For a moment all Tony could see was the predatory gleam in Warner's eye when he turned his attention from Gibbs to the younger agents as he and Kate had approached the witness at the crime scene earlier. Protectiveness for his annoying and sometimes distractively attractive partner replaced any interest in entertaining himself at Kate's expense.

"Naw, boss. Kate's chasing down some leads on the vic's identity. I can handle one old swabbie."

Gibb's right eyebrow arched up in a way that clearly said _'I'd like to see you try.'_

Tony swallowed nervously. "Right… I'm outta here."

It seemed to Tony that the mass transit systems of most major cities seemed to be part of a plot to mask the more sordid areas of major metro areas to prevent shock to the sensibilities of sanitized suburbanites and tourists. You could live in Rockville, catch the cities underground subway called the "Metro" and reemerge into the Federal Triangle without any sense of the real city that existed beyond the Capitol. The district had places just as rough as any he'd seen as a cop in Baltimore. Tony found himself in one such neighborhood. Given that Warner drove a wrecker, he was not surprised that the address brought him to junkyard. What did surprise him was that anyone would actually live in a place like this.

As he gingerly wove the SUV through the vehicular cemetery toward the back of the property, Tony saw a structure that was not much more than a Quonset hut. Sheet metal was haphazardly welded in patches on the building and roof. He knew it to be Warner's residence when he spotted two rusted poles with laundry strung out between like hollow scarecrows in the chill wind.

There was no sign of Warner's tow truck, but that suited Tony just fine. He just assume snoop around a bit and get a sense of this character. Tony walked over to the door and rapped sharply on the frame of a screen that had seen better days. Opening the screen he knocked on the door.

"Mr. Warner. It's Agent Dinozzo with NCIS." Tony cocked his head, listing for any sounds, voices, TV or the like. Dead silence. A slow smile lit the agent's face. He could do a _Marlowe_ around the place uninterrupted. First, he'd check out the grounds and then decide whether a little B and E was warranted. He walked around the building toward the clothesline and toward the back of the house.

Peering through one of the windows that looked like it had not been cleaned since originally installed, Tony confirmed that there was nobody in that room and moved further toward the back of the house.

Turning the corner to the back, Tony pulled up so hard that gravel shot from under his feet, grimacing at the noise it made.

What brought him up short was an '85 baby blue Ford Crown Victoria with a peeling navy blue vinyl top - just as Warner had described the perp to be driving. Tony didn't take the time to ponder why this car was parked behind Warner's house. Freeing his sidearm with barely a whisper of metal on leather, Tony held his automatic pointed heavenward as he peered around the corner of the house and then made his way cautiously to the passenger side of the vehicle. Empty. Relaxing his guard, he gave himself a moment to contemplate the unexpected appearance of the car. Warner was playing them. That was certain. But it would take more time and investigation to decide how deep his game was. Yanking their chain was a possibility. Warner seemed to take an instant dislike to Gibbs. But maybe Warner was more deeply involved in this murder. The most important thing now was that they had grounds for a search warrant. Still holding the automatic, Tony palmed his cell phone and hit "1" to speed dial Gibbs.

The "Yeah" he received implied that Gibbs had figured out the caller ID on his cell or he'd had McGee program his latest phone for him. Tony's vote was for the latter.

"Boss, you'll never guess what I'm looking at right now."

Gibbs growled, "Do you really want to make me guess, Dinozzo?"

"No Boss. Actually I was thinking you might want to get a warrant."

"Dinozzo, this still feels like guessing…" added Gibbs in a clipped tone that was all the warning Tony needed.

"Yeah right. Well I'm standing next to a baby Blue Crown Vic."

"Where the hell are you?" Tony could almost see Gibbs body tense to alertness. He could feel the intensity in waves across the cell connection.

"I'm at Warner's. No answer, but I thought I'd wander around and take in the landscaping. That's when I saw the Crown Vic." As he was talking, Tony made his way around to the truck of the car. A rust colored smudge trailed from just below the keyhole. "…and I think I've got blood here. I really think that we need to see what's in this trunk."

"Back off Tony and wait for us. Keep an eye on the place from a safe distance. You got me?"

Tony had every intention of answering. He'd bent down to examine what he was sure was a blood stain, when the right side of his head exploded with pain and he was swung around feeling his back connect with the trunk of the car. The gun and phone fell from nerveless fingers. As the image of someone standing over him swam in his dimming eyesight, Tony's last conscious thought was that this was the last time he would underestimate an old swabbie.

Warner stood over the crumpled form of the young NCIS agent and kicked the cell phone closed, cutting off the transmission. He eyed the blood on the opposite end of the broom handle.

"You want me to ditch that thing?" A pair of younger men came up to stand next to Warner. The one talking sported a scar that ran from just under his right eye to just below his ear, with thinning mousy brown hair. His companion was smaller, but not by much, easily weighing over 200 lbs. His most notable features were his proportionally small head and the pronounced limp that caused him to drag his right leg with every step.

Warner looked at both men with thinly hidden contempt. Eyeing the impromptu club, he tossed it on the ground next to the car.

"No. Lets leave them with this little weapon of opportunity. It should keep Agent Gibbs and his team busy. Leave the car, too." Motioning to the unconscious agent, Warner addressed the two, "Him we take. Toss him in the back of the van."

TBC… 


End file.
